


A Slave is one who Serves

by Pakeha



Series: Child of the Enemy [1]
Category: The Mummy Returns (2001), The Mummy Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Choking, Coming Untouched, First Time, M/M, Master/Slave, Non-Consensual, Older Man/Younger Man, PWP, Possibly some stockholm syndrome stuff, Religious Undertones, Rough Sex, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1398868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pakeha/pseuds/Pakeha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imhotep takes his pleasure in a needy, overwhelmed Alex.  -- PWP 1000%</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slave is one who Serves

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine this happens within the standard plot of the film, only in an AU where Alex is like sixteen-eighteen as opposed to the ten or whatever that he actually is in the movie. Still tagging for underage as a precautions since his age is not specified in the text.

Alex’s breath had turned the stone in front of him damp, the coolness of it lost to him. With his forearms braced on the rough surface, he tried to keep himself steady against the onslaught behind him but it was useless. His forehead knocked against his arms and the rough stone in turn, the sweat sliding down from his hairline stinging the scratches and cuts on his skin. 

His fingernails ached, digging into the hieroglyphics in front of him, looking for some purchase and finding _nothing,_ nothing but grit and old words he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

For a moment he almost surfaced, awareness surged up in him and froze the heat which kept his mind addled, filling him with a horror he couldn’t handle. 

“No, st-” He choked but with a snarl the hands at his hips tightened, huge fingers digging in and dragging over his skin, clawing lines which would bruise vividly in the coming minutes. The protest turned to a shriek and a moan, a thin whining thing which hiccuped with his breathing, wordless and cloying and dragging him under again into the haze of heat and deep, punishing pleasure. 

The cock inside him thrust , and thrust, and thrust, punching the breath out of him and the stone dug at his face again, ruining the skin, and Alex couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t, he couldn’t-

“You serve me well, Alexander.” the voice, deep and penetrating, permeated the fog of anxious arousal which gripped him and Alex sobbed, pushing back. 

“Please,” He gasped, “God, please, I can’t-”

A laugh, a thrust, a hand moved to Alex’s hair and gripped _hard,_ pushed his face into his shaking forearms and held it there. “Hush, boy.” He grunted. “Take you pleasure from this, I do not stop you.”

Alex cried, his knees weak and failing. “I can’t, I don’t- Shit, please-”

“Do I not please you, Alexander?” The voice was a growl and a purr, not unaffected but _strong_ compared to Alex’s stutters, yelps, and gasps. “Do I not impress you? I am as close to a god as you will meet in this life, child, and still you want more?”

The breath was stale and hot where it poured over Alex’s ear, “I did not expect you to be so greedy.”

“No-” Alex started, a protest half formed before a hand that felt like the desert itself shot up and wrapped around his throat. His pleads turned to choked off whimpers, his back straining, his body struggling to hold himself up until the hand in his hair let go to wrap around his hips again, leaving him propped enough to keep taking and taking and taking, his head free to loll back, trying to flee the unrelenting pressure on his neck. 

“Be grateful.” He grunted, words rough. “Serve me, and take your pleasure.”

And Alex wept, raw, his sounds muted without the air to voice them, his vision blinking at the edges. 

The strength of the man’s thrusts became impossibly _more_ , more violent, more raw, more possessing. Alex’s body was on fire, the nerves inside and out over sensitized, used so much so as to be nearly numb in pain and in pleasure, needing more but knowing he couldn’t take it, it would destroy him- 

The man behind him was grunting now, laboring to find his finish, to fill the boy, to mark him inside with his seed, to show him such shame was his place, his purpose-

“Who do you serve, Alex?” The vicious words cleaved through Alex’s decreasing awareness, piercing through his thoughts, starving of oxygen. The hand around his throat loosened just barely, just enough, and Alex heaved a gasp, a sob.

“Imhotep!” He wailed, “Imhotep! Imho-” but the hand returned, even tighter than before and Alex shut his eyes and sobbed as his orgasm screamed through him, ripping the sensation out of him, spraying his seed from his untouched cock against the ancient architecture he was pinned to. He struggled to stay conscious and mostly lost as his pleasure boiled so strong as to be nearly pain, overwhelming to the point of terrifying, the hand around his throat unrelenting as Imhotep yanked him back harder to ride a handful of roaring thrusts. 

At length Imhotep froced himself into the clenching passage and held there, rolling his hips as he used the smaller body to milk himself to his completion, pouring his seed into the boy, marking him, filling him-

The fingers on his throat relaxed and the rush of oxygen into Alex’s abused lungs was nearly enough to hurl him into unconsciousness, something like nausea roiling in his gut as he tried to process, tried to bring himself back from the edge. 

At his neck lips and tongue caressed, licking the sweat and tasting the skin, suckling at the pulse point as the blood rushed furiously beneath the surface. 

“A good slave serves Alex, and you serve so beautifully-”

Alex curled back into the steady warmth at his back, still clenching and releasing weakly around the cock inside him. “Imhotep-” He mewled, confused, despairing, needy. The voice at his ear chuckled. 

“The child of my enemy, in the throes of worship- how beautiful, how very beautiful.”

Alex closed his eyes and waited to die, for surely this was death, but the hands which had folded around his chest kept him grounded and terrifyingly alive, breathing deeply in the arms of an enemy, a creature of darkness and fury, until nothing more but an aching sleep took him.


End file.
